Breathless
by stormsprayer
Summary: HarryDraco slash. Draco catches Harry somewhere the Gryffindor shouldn't be.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter I

"What's that you've got there, Potter?" Draco's cold gray eyes gleamed slightly in the faint light of the moon that was coming in from one of the corridor's large windows. He leaned casually against the wall, smirking in Harry's direction.

At the sound of the other's voice, Harry jerked upright, scrambling up from where he had been sitting against the wall, his copy of Advanced Potion Making, sitting open beside him on the floor. 

"Nothing." He said defensively, snapping the book shut and standing in front of it in a belated attempt to block it from view. He had, in fact, been doing something. Something he was hoping no one, (let alone Malfoy), would catch him at. It wasn't though, as if he was doing anything horribly wrong… just practicing a few of his non-verbal spells… that was it really… nothing special… he wasn't doing anything wrong. Minus the fact of course, that it was the middle of the night, and he, unlike Malfoy was not a prefect, and didn't have a solid reason to be walking about the castle at midnight. 

"You're a liar Potter. I know what you've been up to…" Draco replied with a sneer. He pushed himself off the wall and started to walk towards Harry. 

Harry's mouth got suddenly dry, and he backed up, not wanting the Slytherin to come any closer. He nearly tripped over his Potions book in his haste to get away, and ended up backed against a wall. It was a rather uncomfortable wall too, the brick poking every-which way into his back. Harry made a mental note to choose a corridor with a tapestry in it next time he had to do any midnight charms work. As Draco neared, Harry couldn't help dropping his gaze to the other's lips, and felt his own part slightly, his heart pounding. To his horror, Draco appeared to notice Harry's reaction to him, and continued to stalk in his direction. Harry attempted to back up more than he had already, but failed miserably at it. Draco smirked at him with those full, pouting lips, and his heart beat faster still. 

"Looks to me like you've been doing something…frowned upon by the administration." The Slytherin drawled. 

Oh I'm thinking some pretty frown-uponable images, Harry thought, barely managing to pull his eyes up from Draco's mouth to his eyes. "I wasn't doing anything that was _'frown-uponable'_ Malfoy… nothing that you haven't done yourself anyways. Besides, I was just working on some of my charms… Actually, now that I think of it, I don't think you've ever done that… so I've got a step up on you."

"Oh really?" Draco raised an eyebrow, and stepped closer to Harry, so close that they were nearly touching, and it was clear that the blonde haired boy was the taller of the two. "From where _I'm_ standing," he snarled with a sneer, "It looks like I'm a step above you, Potter."

"You are not, you never have been…" Harry murmured breathlessly.

"WHAT was that Potter? I didn't quite catch that…" he leaned in closer, his lips just brushing the tip of Harry's ear. "Perhaps you could say it again… and I could call Filch…"

"No, I..." Harry was sure that Malfoy would be able to hear the thudding of his heart, it was beating so fast. He wanted nothing more than to lean into the almost-caress of Draco's lips, but his pride stopped him. 

"Potter, Potter, Potter… You really must learn to speak up." Draco's hand rose and swept a lock of hair from Harry's eyes, just brushing his cheek with the barest of touches. "You could also use a haircut if you want my opinion…" He said with an almost playful tone in his voice, but the look in his eyes – of barely restrained lust – negated the light tone.

A small sound escaped Harry, and he trembled slightly beneath the touch of the blonde. They were standing so close now that the line of their bodies touched, and it would only take a hard thought to have them pressed against each other. 

Suddenly Draco's hand fisted in Harry's hair, and he gave it a violent pull, jerking Harry's head back and exposing the pale line of his throat. The unexpected pain had Harry gasping, and Draco used the moment of weakness to pull Harry against him and without giving the Gryffindor time to recover he covered Harry's mouth with his own.

Once again Harry gasped, and once again Draco exploited the weakness, using his hand twined in Harry's hair to drag Harry closer. Draco's other hand slid into Harry's robes at the exact same time his tongue thrust into Harry's mouth. If he was surprised by the fact that his hand met bare flesh, he didn't show it, and it seemed although he had known Harry wouldn't have bothered with anything more than pajama bottoms and a thin robe, for there was not even the slightest hint of hesitation as the hand ran up Harry's back before it began to trail downwards.

The barrage of sensations was almost too much to handle – the sharp pain of Draco's hand fisted in his hair, the taste and feel of the velvet tongue inside his mouth and the sudden sharp nips of teeth against his lips coupled with the awareness of Draco's body plastered against his and the hand that caressed his flesh just above the waistband of his pajamas. It was all Harry could do not to cry out. The hand in his robes moved to his stomach, and Harry arched against Draco, whimpering half-formed pleas against the Slytherin's mouth. He could feel Draco's lips against his own curve up in a smirk as the hand slipped beneath the waistband of his pants.

But then as suddenly and roughly as he had kissed Harry, Draco pulled away, leaving Harry to fall back against the brick, his mouth bruised and swollen, his robes in disarray, and his eyes blurred with desire. 

"What…?" His voice still thick with need, Harry looked up at Draco standing cool and nonplussed save for the slight redness of his lips.

"Potter, Malfoy, what are you two doing?" Said Snape greasily. He was standing a few feet away, and it was obvious that he had seen the entire spectacle, and was now not entirely sure what to do about it.

"I was just…reprimanding…Potter for wandering the corridors at this hour, sir." Draco replied, smirking in Harry's direction. The Gryffindor had finally managed to catch his breath, and was trying to pull his robes back in place.

"Well, Draco, if that is how you reprimand, I would hate to see what you would do to someone you were congratulating. Perhaps I could do a better job? 50 points from Gryffindor. Now, both of you, to bed now, before I decide to take more points from you." He turned and began to stalk away. Thinking about his prior statement, he quickly turned back around to face the two boys. "And when I said to bed, I mean to bed in your respective houses and dorms please." 

His face burning, Harry grabbed his Potions book and fled.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter II

Slumping lower in his chair, Harry stifled a yawn. How one person could speak for an entire hour about the many uses of foxglove in potion-making was beyond him. That Hermione continued to listen with rapt attention amazed him further. Another yawn threatened to escape, but he clamped his mouth shut. He hadn't had a good night's sleep in weeks. Not since the night Malfoy had caught him.

His gaze slid over to where the Slytherin sat, and he couldn't help the sudden parting of his lips, nor the unconscious hitch in his breathing. Since that night he had been plagued with dreams that left him awake in the small hours of the morning, hot and sweating and nearly in tears with unsatisfied need. His pride wouldn't let him wander the halls at night again, though several times he had been nearly half way out the portrait in the common room before he caught himself.

A row away, Malfory was toying with his wand. Nothing obvious, just running the tips of his fingers up and down the wooden shaft. Up and down in a continuous rhythm, and Harry couldn't tear his eyes away. He swallowed, hard, as an unbidden image of Malfoy's fingers stroking something else flashed before his eyes. This time he couldn't stop the groan.

"Potter," Snape's oily voice cut through the fog of desire. "Since you seem to find the uses of foxglove too illuminating to listen to in silence, I think a detention is in order. My office, tonight."

"Your scar Harry—was it your scar?" He looked at Hermione, bewildered. Was what his scar? He cursed silently as he remembered the groan.

"Yeah, uh, just a twinge." He lied, "Nothing really." She gave him a concerned look, but her attention moved back to Snape as he moved on to use 34.

Back aching, Harry straightened with a moan of pain. He had been washing out caldrons for what seemed like hours. The detention hadn't sounded so bad when Snape had told him he would be hand-washing the first-years equipment, but he hadn't counted on the layers of Merlin-knows-what that was caked to seemingly everything.

Muttering a curse, Harry wrestled with his tie. The first hour down in the dungeons he had been freezing, but it hadn't been long before the physical exertion had caused him to shed first his robes, then his vest. Yanking the gold and scarlet tie off, Harry unbuttoned the top of his shirt. His arms and back burned, but he was almost thankful—hopefully by the time he was finished he'd be so exhausted that he could drop into bed without one thought of Draco.

At that thought, Harry blinked. Since when had "Malfoy" become "Draco"? Angry with himself, he grabbed another cauldron and began to scrub.

Standing in the doorway, Draco watched Harry through heavy lidded eyes. The play of muscle under the thin material of the Gryffindor's shirt had him licking his lips in anticipation. Harry hadn't been the only one suffering from sleepless nights.

"Potter."

Nearly jumping out of his skin, Harry's head jerked towards the door. Malfoy was leaning nonchalantly against the frame, a knowing smirk playing over his lips. It took Harry a couple of tries before he was able to speak.

"M-Malfoy." He was unconsciously backing up, and without warning tripped over the pile of clean cauldrons, landing sprawled on his back on the floor. Malfoy was on him in a flash, and before Harry could regain his breath he found himself straddled by the blonde boy, his hands caught in a vice-like grip behind his head.

Harry made a strangled noise of protest, but it quickly turned into a whimper as Draco ran a hand up Harry's side, stopping at his throat. Harry tried to grab at Malfoy, but found that his hands were held firm by some sort of fabric, and that no amount of frantic tugging would loosen it. Draco had managed to loop Harry's discarded tie around a metal ring on the dungeon floor, and had tied Harry's hands to it.

A surge of panic overcame the slighter boy, and he struggled helplessly under Draco until the pale hand around his throat tightened, cutting off his air. Harry forced himself to lay still, though his green eyes that were wide with fear and fixed on Malfoy's said enough.

His hand sliding from Harry's throat once he was sure that the other boy would remain still, Draco nipped at Harry's chin, delighting in the feel of the shudder the Gryffindor barely managed to suppress. Draco's hand slipped around Harry's waist, and Harry nearly moaned at the feel of the rough hand on his ass, though after a second he realized that Draco had pulled Harry's wand out of his back pocket and tossed it across the dungeon.

Furious at himself, Harry fought against the tide of desire and tried to buck Draco off again.

"What are you playing at, Malfoy?! Let me go!" He snarled, but Draco merely slid down Harry's body, and before the darker boy could utter another word, Draco's lips had fastened around Harry's nipple through his shirt.

Using lips and teeth and tongue, Draco drove every coherent thought Harry might have retained at that point out of his mind. While his tongue sent Harry reeling, Draco's hand slipped to the front of the Gryffindor's pants.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter III

Harry's hands scrabbled helplessly against the stone floor of the dungeon. He had to escape this…this torment. The fact that Malfoy had his hands on Harry was beyond depraved. The fact that Harry wanted them there, the fact that he had thought about nothing but Malfoy's hands on him for weeks was too loathsome, too sickening to even stomach.

As the Slytherin worked his hand down the front of Harry's pants, Harry squirmed underneath him, half of him trying to buck the blonde boy off, the other half wanting something completely different. Draco's hand finally reached his goal, and with a knowing smirk he gave the Gryffindor's already hard flesh one rough stroke.

"Argh!" Harry gave a strangled cry, his hips arching unconsciously into Draco's hand.

"You like that, _Potter_?" Draco jeered, his fingers moving tauntingly over Harry's cock. The sight of the smaller boy writhing defenselessly beneath him was enough to have him hard as a rock.

Ever since the episode in the hallway Draco had been furious with himself. He had never lost control like that before. Had Professor Snape not interrupted… there was no telling how far he would have gone. He had been so intoxicated by the fact that he had found Potter alone he had given no thought to the consequences. But what had been worse than the lapse of judgment in the hallway was that ever since then he had been unable to get the image of the Gryffindor pressed up against the wall with his lips bruised and his eyes unfocused out of his head. More than once he had awoken from a fevered dream where he again had the Boy Who Lived panting and moaning under him like a bitch in heat. Draco had never been this obsessed with any of his previous conquests. After much deliberation he had come to the conclusion that the only way to exorcize the Gryffindor from his mind was to simply do him. Surely once he had fucked Harry within an inch of his life the other boy would cease to occupy so much of his thoughts.

And that was just what he intended to do.

By now Draco's skillful hands had stripped Harry of his pants, and the Gryffindor lay against the cold stone floor in nothing but his half-buttoned shirt.

"Please, Draco…" Harry pleaded, squeezing his eyes shut against the shame. As much as he protested, he knew that his body would betray him. And unfortunately there was nothing he could do to hide that fact from the Slytherin.

Draco's grin widened. He stood up and with a tap of his wand flipped Harry over, so that he was now facedown on the floor, with his hands still firmly secured above his head. Another flick of his wand had a block of wood that had been resting against the wall to shoot underneath Harry's hips, propping them up. Knowing it would heighten the anticipation, Draco stepped over Harry to grab the abandoned scrub brush, fully aware that the other boy watched with eyes blurred with fear and desire.

Moving behind Harry, Draco stood for a moment, pausing to appreciate the image that the Gryffindor presented. It was nearly enough to make him groan out loud—the boy's ass was high in the air, his arms stretched uncomfortably far in front of him, and soft mewling noises escaped him as he frantically craned his neck in a desperate attempt to see what Draco intended. Rolling up his sleeves, Draco gave into temptation and stroked himself, before, without any warning, he brought the brush—bristle end down—onto Harry's exposed ass with enough force to draw blood.

A scream more of shock than pain tore itself from Harry's throat, though once the surprise from the unexpected blow faded, tears of agony rushed into the green eyes. Before he had a chance to recover, Draco brought the brush down again. And again.

Hardly able to draw in breath between his agonized cries, Harry could do nothing but squirm frantically against the block of wood in a futile attempt to escape. One that only caused him to grow harder as he ground himself against the rough surface of the wood. As Draco's hand rose and fell, Harry's cries turned to broken pleas, and as he unwillingly drove himself to a point of desperate arousal he was no longer sure if he was begging Draco to stop, or begging for more.

Knowing he had Harry so blinded by lust that he probably couldn't even remember his own name, Draco dropped the brush. Before Harry could even register the change, Draco's hands were on his bruised and bloody ass, and within seconds the blonde boy had thrust two fingers into him.

Harry's back arched at the new pain, and he tried to close his legs against the invasion, but it was too late for that. As Draco's fingers pressed deeper, his free hand reached around Harry and grasped his cock. The mingling pain and pleasure had Harry completely incoherent, and he could do nothing more but weep.

"A virgin, Potter?" Draco leaned down and whispered in Harry's ear, beginning to work another finger into the bound boy. "Merlin, you're so tight…" Harry tried to jerk his head away, but suddenly one of the fingers inside of him hit a spot that made him cry out—and not in pain. A smirk dancing over his lips, Draco pulled back, and pulled out.

"Please, please," Harry panted rashly, not even sure what he was asking, only that he knew Draco could give it to him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter IV**

Draco moved in front of Harry, kicking the wooden block out from under the smaller boy so that if he hadn't caught himself on his elbows, he would have fallen face down.

"On your knees, Potter." Draco snarled, grabbing a handful of Harry's hair and yanking him up. With his hands still tied to the floor in front of him, Harry could only rise to all fours, and the sudden pain had tears slipping down his cheeks.

With a flick of his wand Draco lengthened the tie so he could pull the Gryffindor up higher. God, he had thought about this moment so often in the past weeks that it was hard to believe it was actually happening. Harry Potter; bound, half-naked, and begging for him; Draco Malfoy.

Kneeling, Harry looked up at Draco with wide eyes. As the blonde boy popped the top button his pants, Harry's mouth parted unconsciously, and he liked his lips. In the back of his mind he knew that he should be disgusted with himself, that he should be reeling back in horror instead of straining forwards in fascination.

Draco paused, his pants half undone. That look in Potter's eyes… a kind of terrible yearning coupled with vulnerability… it struck a chord within him. Draco had seen the very same look in his eyes whenever he had caught himself in a mirror after just awakening in the morning. Fury washed over him, and without warning he backhanded Harry across the face. Once, twice, until the ring on his hand split the skin over Harry's cheekbone and blood dripped off the Gryffindor's face. That _weak_ look was gone from Potter's eyes, and instead the boy glanced up at Draco with mistrust and fear, like a puppy that had just been kicked.

Draco felt himself give the smallest flinch at the wounded look in Harry's eyes. That more than anything else caused the rage inside him to flare, and he grabbed Harry's face with one hand, his fingers digging cruelly into the still-bleeding cut on Harry's cheek. Delighting in the soft noise of pain Harry made, Draco finished unbuttoning his pants with his free hand.

"Don't just kneel there sniveling," Draco ran his fingers in an almost loving caress through Harry's hair. "Do something more useful with your mouth," his hand fisted in Harry's thick black hair, and he dragged the boy's mouth towards him. "If you even think about biting me, I'll Crucio you until you won't even know your own name."

Harry tried to twist his head to the side, tried to escape the painful grip Draco had on his hair. No matter that the thought of having Draco in his mouth was enough to make Harry almost writhe with desire, he still had enough of his pride left to try and fight.

In response to Harry's almost half-hearted protest, Draco yanked viciously on the Gryffindor's hair, pulling up enough that Harry's neck stretched out in a painful angle. The sight of the long column of pale flesh framed by the whiteness of Harry's shirt made Draco want to lick his way down, but he merely gritted his teeth and forced Harry's head to an even more painful angle.

"Stop fucking around, Potter. Suck. Me. Off."

The pain caused a tear to slip down Harry's cheek and it mingled with the fresh blood. Unable to nod, he could only part his lips in surrender.

Smirking, and hard enough that it was almost painful, Draco relaxed his hold on Harry and watched as the Gryffindor dipped his head down.

Harry had never done something like this before. As much as the thought had been half formed in his head for the past several weeks, he had not actually considered that he might find himself having to do the actual thing. Hesitant, and not entirely sure he would be able to do as Draco demanded, Harry licked his lips and touched them to the tip of Draco's cock.

At the first soft brush of Harry's lips, Draco's hips jerked forwards, and he nearly groaned. The fist in Harry's hair tightened, but instead of pulling, pushed Harry's head down, and in doing so pushed himself between the kneeling boy's lips.

Harry's eyes rolled up to look at Draco's face as the older boy groaned, and a sliver of delight coursed through Harry. With nothing but a touch of his lips, he could make Draco groan aloud with pleasure. Resolving that he would make the Slytherine do more than simply groan, Harry opened his mouth wider, and took more of Draco in.

The feel of the other boy's silken hardness, hot and thick in his mouth, was somehow the most arousing sensation Harry had ever experienced. His tongue, tentative at first, began to stroke Draco's flesh, growing bolder as Draco bucked into him.

Draco's eyes closed as Harry began to suck on him, his jaws clenching as he tried to contain the moan that rose in his throat. The Gryffindor was making soft mewling noises around Draco's cock, and Potter strained forwards in his bonds, trying to further impale himself on Draco.

Frustrated that he was unable to use his hands on the older boy, Harry started to bob his head up and down. Each time he tried to pull more of Draco's cock into his mouth, but because of the angle he was not able to get as much as he wanted. Moving back, Harry lifted his mouth off of Draco.

Draco's closed eyes flew open at the sudden retreat. Just as he tightened his hand in Harry's hair, intending to force the boy back, Harry's tongue darted out and ran up Draco's shaft in one quick lick. Draco's hand slackened in Harry's hair, and he groaned.

Pleased with himself, Harry licked Draco again, harder this time. It was not soon until he was lapping at Draco's cock like a cat with cream. The delicate touch of the Gryffindor's tongue was agonizing, and Draco felt himself having to choke back pleas that Harry take him back into his mouth. It was only after a faint pause where Harry gathered his breath that Draco recalled that he was the one in charge—not Harry.

The fingers that had remained loose against the back of Harry's head suddenly clenched, and a strangled gasp of pain escaped Harry's throat and left him breathless. Viciously twisting his hand, Draco yanked Harry's head down, and shoved his cock as far down Harry's throat as it would go.

The Gryffindor gagged, chocking on the length and thickness. The spasms of Harry's throat as he tried to breath around Draco only succeeded in making the Slytherine push himself further into Harry. The lack of air combined with the pain caused tears to run down Harry's cheeks as he fought to breathe.

Opening his eyes, Draco cried out at the pleasure of watching his biggest rival gag around his cock. The sight coupled with the incredible sensation was enough to make him scream, and he shuddered with delight as he came in a sudden burst in Harry's mouth.

Draco was shoved so far down Harry's throat that Harry could not help but swallow.

With one last groan, Draco pulled out of Harry's mouth and released his hand from Harry's hair. Desperately sucking in air, Harry dropped to the floor, his tear stained cheeks pale and come still glistening on his lips.

Draco leaned against the wall, needing a moment to recover. Through half-closed eyes he watched Harry lie panting on the floor. A smile of satisfaction danced over Draco's lips. He doubted that the image of the sorely used Gryffindor, the remains of Draco's pleasure still clinging to his mouth, would ever leave his mind.

Smirking at Harry, Draco pulled his pants back up and headed towards the door. He was nearly out when he remembered. Turning around, he flicked his wand, and the tie binding Harry's hands unwound. Turning a lazy eye to the rest of the dungeon, he merely arched his eyebrows before leaving Harry to clean up.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter V**

The incident in the dungeons had left Harry shaken for nearly a week. He had faked a cold, telling Hermione and Ron that he was just not feeling well, though it was getting harder to make excuses to avoid Madam Pomfrey. Hermione especially had noticed when Harry barely ate. He knew that if he didn't start 'recovering' soon that he'd find himself marched up to the hospital wing, willing or no.

Harry still did not understand what had happened in detention. He had never thought that he would have willingly—or almost willingly—submitted to Draco. Let alone allowed the Slytherin to, well, Harry didn't think he even had words to describe it. The whole ordeal had been impossibly degrading, a humiliation that should have been enough to leave Harry furious and desperate for revenge. On the contrary though, Harry found himself desperate for it to happen again.

A part of him—the sane part, he thought—was horrified beyond comprehension at what had occurred. The rest of him however… Harry had no idea that a person could want something so badly that it physically hurt. Every time he spotted a slash of green and silver out of the corner of his eye, or a glimpse of blonde hair, he would find himself holding his breath, longing for it to be Draco, and at the same time filled with revulsion that it might be.

"So what do you think, Harry?"

Blinking, Harry turned back to Ron, drawing a complete blank. He had no idea what Ron had just asked.

"Er… I don't know." He evaded, trying to look thoughtful, as though he was considering the question seriously. "I'd…uh…ask Hermione," he finished, nodding convincingly. "She'll know."

Ron looked askance at Harry. "Ask Hermione?!" The crack in his voice suggested that Harry had not supplied the right answer.

Cursing silently, Harry tried to backtrack. "I mean, no, don't ask Hermione." He ran a hand through his hair. "Obviously you can't ask her."

"Right, right." Ron sank back into his chair, looking relieved. "Do you reckon Fred would give me a straight answer?"

"Um, yeah," Harry sincerely hoped so. "Fred'll be able to give you a hand. No problem."

Grinning broadly, Ron patted Harry on the arm. "I knew you'd know what to do."

"Er, yeah. Anytime." Harry muttered. "Look, I'm pretty tired so I'm going to head to bed."

"Yeah," Ron gave Harry a look of concern. "You need to get more sleep. If one more girl asks me if she's the reason you've got bags under your eyes, I won't be responsible for my actions."

Harry gave a wane smile in reply before heading up the stairs. He thought that he'd read some of his History of Magic textbook before trying to sleep. Hopefully he'd nod off during some of the lengthy and quite unnecessary descriptions.

Draco lay sprawled carelessly on a long couch in front of the fire. His blonde hair looked almost white against the deep green of the couch, and he was so pale that were it not for the nearly unnoticeable rise and fall of his chest as he breathed he could have been mistaken for dead. Though his eyes were closed, and his breathing even, the Slytherin was not asleep. Lately he had found sleep to be an elusive companion, and it was with growing frustration that he found himself awake and restless at all hours of the night.

With a furious burst of movement Draco sprang off the couch and towards the portrait hole. The iron clad control that had earned him a reputation as someone hard and cold had finally snapped, and before he had even registered what his body had decided for him, he was out the door and half way down the hall.

Unable to contain himself any longer, Harry strode down the corridor. He wore nothing but a pair of green silk pajama bottoms, and they had been hastily pulled on. He had simply acted without thinking, and had not even thought to bring his wand with him. There was only one thing he could focus on, one thing he could recall with absolute clarity, and that was the look of heady desire that had caused Draco's cold grey eyes to smolder with heat.

Rounding the corner, Harry yelped as he collided with another person. The impact jarred his glasses from his face, and he could only blink owlishly at the taller boy, unable to make out anything except the size and colouring of the stranger.

Draco growled low in his throat, and with bruising hands knocked Harry back against the wall.

The impact drove the wind out of Harry, and as he opened his mouth to suck in air, Draco exploited the weakness, his mouth hard and demanding against Harry's.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter VI**

This time it was Harry's hands that moved to fist in Draco's silky blonde hair, dragging the Slytherin closer as Harry moaned against his mouth. Draco's hands skimmed up Harry's sides, no longer bruising but barely brushing Harry's skin. The sudden change in Draco's touch—from painful to so soft that his fingertips barely whispered against Harry's skin—had Harry shuddering, almost unable to bear the delicate sensation.

Draco pulled back, his customary smirk settling once again over his lips. He had not been prepared for the overpowering surge of need that drove him to seek out the Gryffindor. In fact, it had frightened him. Never before had he been unable to control his lusts. He did not know what it was about the Boy Who Lived that whittled away at his willpower.

Draco masked his uncertainty well though. His father would have been the only one to see the sliver of unease that darted through his cool grey eyes as they met Harry's. To anyone else Draco's eyes would have conveyed a sense of utter arrogance and complete surety, not to mention a heady amount of desire for the slender boy in front of him.

Feeling self-conscious with out his glasses, especially now that Draco had taken a step back, Harry dropped to his knees and began to feel around for them. He felt like a complete idiot for forgetting his wand, and the fact that his hands still trembled ever-so-slightly from Draco's assault on his mouth caused a flush of shame to colour his cheeks. Bloody hell, where were his glasses?

After watching Harry scrabble on the floor for a moment, Draco gave a long suffering sigh of annoyance and with a murmered "Accio," had Harry's glasses flying up from the floor and into his hand. "Oh get off your knees, Potter," he said scornfully, distain curling his upper lip. "You look like a bloody house elf. Here," as Harry guiltily pulled himself to his feet, Draco thrust the black rimmed glasses into Harry's hand.

Draco couldn't suppress the feeling of relief that rose in him when Harry placed the distinguishing glasses back on his nose. Without the glasses to distract from Harry's eyes, one noticed how distressingly green they were. Not only was the colour enough to make Draco catch his breath, Harry's eyes were thickly framed with spiky black lashes, making them appear huge and vulnerable. With the glasses on however, it was easy to pay no attention to the emerald gaze beneath.

Harry wasn't sure what to do with his hands. Normally he gave them no thought, but they suddenly appeared large and awkward, just hanging at his sides. After a moment of uncomfortable fidgeting, he finally gave up and clasped them behind his back before steeling himself to meet Draco's gaze.

Harry's reluctance to look at Draco made the Slytherin relax slightly. He was again the one in charge, a position that he was more than comfortable with. He had no idea how this one scrawny boy had managed to unsettle him in ways that men twice his age had failed miserably at. He could only be relieved that the momentary role reversal had been, well, momentary.

"Well, Potter," Draco ran his cool grey eyes down Harry's half-naked body in a manner insulting enough to have colour rising again to Harry's cheeks—though this time anger as well as embarrassment caused the flush. "What are you doing out of bed and half-dressed at this hour? Without, I might add, your wand?"

Harry clung to the anger that flared inside him at Draco's—damnit, Malfoy's—deliberately offensive pass over his body. The fury that danced down his spine at the Slytherin was a shield that Harry thought just might be strong enough to withstand the allure of Draco's—Malfoy's—hands.


	7. Chapter 7

"I was going to have a bath, _Malfoy_." The words left his mouth before Harry had time to think, but actually it was a great excuse. He didn't really need anything to go have a bath--there were towels and soap aplenty in the bathroom, and no one needed their wand. Rather proud of himself for coming up with such a believable lie, Harry dropped his guard enough to become cocky. "And yourself?" It was now his turn to give Malfoy the once over, and he took his time about it. Unlike Harry, however, Draco was considerably more dressed. Not only was he wearing a full set of pajamas (in a soft dove-grey that matched his eyes), but an expensive looking black bathrobe and matching slippers. 

The shard of unease worked its way back into Draco's stomach. He had been certain that Harry had been on his way to find him... but it made perfect sense that Potter had simply wanted a bath. After all, the Prefect's bath (which Harry, as the captain of the Gryffindor Quiddich team, could now use) was in between both common rooms. Had he underestimated Harry? A year ago, the thought would never have crossed Draco's mind. No one simply brushed him off. However... Things were different now. His left arm gave an unconscious twinge, and he resisted the urge to rub it. He had thought he was dealing well enough with the pressure of the task assigned to him, but clearly he was slipping. Mad now not just at Harry but at himself, Draco wrenched his doubt from the forefront of his mind and shoved it down until all that was left was the anger.

"Isn't that just convenient," Draco stepped again towards Harry, his fingers tracing up the other boy's arm to caress the delicate shell of his ear. "I was just headed there myself." His fingers slipped past Harry's ear to fist in his hair, a cruel smile twisting his lips as he watched the younger boy's eyes dilate with desire even as a soft whimper of pain escaped him. "You can join me." It wasn't a question.

Releasing Harry, Draco turned and headed toward the Prefects' Bath, not even bothering to glance behind to see if Harry was following. The tips of his ears burning red with shame, and his fists clenched at his sides, Harry hesitated only a moment before moving after Draco.

**Author's Note: I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I know this is like inching along in the most painful manner possible… But I'm getting there!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter VIII**

Reaching the fourth door to the left of Boris the Bewildered, Draco spoke the password and slipped through the door. Harry had to beak into a jog to catch the door before it closed, and he felt another flush rise to his cheeks. Draco never failed to make him feel horribly inept. Stepping into the bathroom, Harry turned towards the large tub. This time of night the room was deserted, save for him and Draco, but even if the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team had been in the room Harry's eyes would still have been unable to focus on anything but the Slytherin.

Draco carelessly tossed his robe down on the stone benches that lined the walls. Stepping out of his slippers he began unbuttoning his shirt. Again not even turning around to see if Harry had followed, he nodded towards the many faucets that ringed the tub. "Stop standing there like you've been petrified and make yourself useful."

Harry's jaw clenched, he wasn't some house elf that Draco could just order around. And yet on the heels of that thought came the bitter knowledge that while no, he wasn't a house elf, he was just as eager to please the Slytherin. Spine rigid as his pride fought a losing battle he did as Draco bid, and moved around the room turning on which ever facet caught his fancy. Before he made it back around the room the tub was more than half full, and rose coloured steam licked at the edges of the tub.

Glancing back at Draco, Harry frowned. The Slytherin's left forearm was wrapped in a white bandage, a rather large one. He opened his mouth to ask what had happened, a sliver of suspicion working it's way into his thoughts, but before he could say anything Draco loosened the tie on his pants and let them fall to the floor.

Harry's mouth snapped shut and his mind blanked. He had never seen Draco naked before, had imagined it, but his fantasies had not done justice to the alabaster body gleaming in front of him. An overwhelming sense of longing swept through him, and he had the bizarre urge to drop to his knees in front of Draco. Not to take the blonde boy in his mouth, but to just kneel before him and submit to his will.

Fighting the unfamiliar desire, Harry's hands clenched to fists at his sides, and he stood mute, unable to pull his gaze away from Draco's muscled form.


	9. Chapter 9

Draco could see the struggle move through the Gryffindor's eyes. Harry had yet to master the ability of masking his thoughts, and Draco found it incredibly arousing how vulnerable it made the other boy. Remaining deliberately nonchalant, knowing that it would serve only to heighten Harry's need, Draco moved to the edge of the tub and in one fluid motion slid into the rose scented water. It was hot, hotter than he was used to, and he gave a slight hiss of pain as the water closed over his waist.

Harry made as though to pull his silk pajama bottoms off, but just as he began to loosen the drawstring, Draco made a sharp noise of dissent.

"No. Leave them on."

Harry hesitated, his hand still on the drawstring, and his brows furrowed in puzzlement as he sent a questioning gaze to Draco. Leave them on... but... He had been under the assumption that he would be joining Draco in his bath. Perhaps he had misunderstood, perhaps the Slytherin had simply intended on using him as some sort of attendant. At that thought Harry felt his face flush with embarrassment, and he took several rapid steps back from the edge of the tub, humiliation colouring every line of his body.

"Potter." Draco's voice was a frigid contrast to the steamy heat of the room, and Harry slid his gaze back to meet Draco's, a sudden chill snaking down his spine. "Get in."

Knowing that he should do no such thing, that if he had any sense left in him he would simply turn around and leave, Harry bit his bottom lip so hard that he almost drew blood. This was the point of no return. If he got in the tub with Draco, if he obeyed such a meaningless order that he do so still clad in his pajamas, he would have committed himself to something that would not be so easy to back away from.

"Potter. I won't ask again." The threat in Draco's tone was evident, and he did not bother to hide his displeasure at Harry's hesitancy.

Faltering only for a second more, Harry slowly made his way back to the edge of the tub, and with wary eyes still fixed on Draco, slipped into the water. The thin silk of his pajamas added a layer of protection against the near scalding heat, and as he took a step forward, towards the Slytherin, they swirled about his legs in a decidedly erotic fashion. Harry was barely able to suppress a shiver of pleasure as he moved through the water.

Draco allowed a small smirk to play over his lips as he watched Harry wade through the steaming water. Draco's earlier unease was gone, the need in Harry's emerald eyes was naked enough to be painful. He was in control of this. Not Potter, not his desires. He was.

Harry stopped a hairsbreath away from Draco. He fought to keep his eyes level with the blonde boy's, but the knowledge that he was merely a hard thought away from the sculpted body of the other boy's was enough to keep his body rigid with tension. The desire to close the distance between them was an ache in his chest, a pain sharp enough to make his breath shallow and his fingers tremble under the water.

His pajama bottoms still swirled around his legs, caressing the sensitive skin in between and the delicate brush against his cock was a taunting reminder of the hard strokes he craved. The agony of being so close to Draco and being unable to touch him, unable to bring himself to touch him, was terrible.

"Please," it was barely a whisper, and it slipped past Harry's lips before he even had a chance to think. His jaw clenched and his hands curled into fists at his sides, furious at himself for being so weak, and at the same time desperate for Draco to take that single step and touch him. Please god, just let Draco touch him.

Victory flashed bright in Draco's eyes and though he was tempted to make Potter wait longer, he could not resist the seductive mix of loathing and lust swirling across Potter's face. Lips curved in an arrogant smile, Draco reached through the water and closed his hand over Harry's cock at the same time as his other hand grabbed a handful of that silky black hair and crushed his mouth over Harry's.

Harry felt his knees buckle as Draco's hand stroked roughly over his cock, and he might have fallen had the hand in his hair not yanked him upright. Mindless with need he moaned against Draco's mouth as his hips thrust against the Slytherin's hand.

Draco could feel his control slipping as Harry ground himself against him. His hand tightened in Harry's hair until a yelp of pain escaped Harry, and he grabbed at Draco's wrist in an attempt to free himself. Draco snarled against Harry's lips and yanked Harry's head as far back as he could, pleasure rippling though him as he watched the pulse pound frantically in Harry's throat.

Using his hand in Harry's hair, Draco pushed the boy against the edge of the pool, forcing him to bend face down against the bathroom floor and thrusting his ass up like an offering. After one last stroke of Harry's cock, Draco's hand moved to the back of Harry's pajamas, and he slowly pulled them down over Harry's ass.

Draco could barely suppress the groan that swept through him at the sight of Potter's proffered body. He could see Harry's hands clenched on the rim of the pool, white knuckled with the effort of staying still despite every fiber of his being screaming for him to escape. Draco pushed harder against Harry's head, grinding his cheek into the floor and causing Harry to squirm in pain.

"Don't fucking move, Potter. I'm not above Petrifying you." Harry whimpered in acknowledgement and stopped struggling. He was nearly paralyzed with fear. This wasn't like the other times with Draco, there was something darker in Draco's voice, something in the harshness of his touch and the grim look in his eyes that told Harry things were about to change.


End file.
